Mischief Managed
by Kokoro-and-Rei
Summary: [DH Spoilers, Oneshot] Number 93, Diagon Alley. A final remembrance, and a long awaited reunion. R&R!


A/N: I seem to be on a Fred and George streak lately! This will only be a one-shot, considering I'm still hard at work on "Big Brother". Hope you all like this!

**Mischief Managed**

Number 93, Diagon Alley.

Twilight is enveloping the streets, as light gives way to the cool breeze of fall, and the sun melts beneath the horizon. Doors are shut and locked, and we see glimmering light, and the blaze of candles that pours through the many windows of the shops and houses. It is here that we find Number 93, where a single, flickering glow emerges from the building's highest window.

The outline of a person can barely be distinguished, as it comes to the window to peer at the empty streets. Closer, a smile is seen; a wide, toothy grin. Inside, the figure moves towards a chair, and easily finds comfort when he sits. It is worth noting that this seems routine.

Sighing, as if releasing something, the man searches the floor below him. After a few moments, he finds what he is hunting for, and a small murmur is heard as he bends to grasp the object. A creased, tough hand fiddles with the latch, and we watch as he opens the leather-bound book.

For the second time, he grins, and it is obvious to us now that he is quite aged. Wrinkles seem to engulf his face, a lifetime of laughter evident in the deep folds. The books pages are filled with photographs, and when studied, it is apparent that they are all of family.

Two younger boys, mirror images of one another, sit in one frame. Each young man smiles the same toothy grin; paralleling the old man's. They are laughing, talking, and waving. Obviously twins, they seem content in each others' company. For a slight instant, we see a glint of something in the man's eye. It is gone, however, just as quickly as it came.

"Merlin's beard…" He mutters softly, stroking the picture.

After many moments of peaceful silence, he speaks again. "Over eighty years… since I've seen you, mate." His voice is no longer the coarse, strained one that it once had been when speaking of his brother. The man is far too old to be upset about the past. Wisdom, and many years have taught him that.

George Weasley leans back in the chair, and closes his eyes. He smiles, letting memories flood his mind; recalling his happiest times.

"_Fred, you next." _

His mother's voice echoes in his head, and another soon follows hers.

"_I'm not Fred, I'm George! Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you TELL I'm George?"_

"_Sorry, George, dear," _she had apologized.

"_Only joking, I am Fred," _the heart-breakingly familar voice speaks. A voice he hasn't heard in over eight decades.

The man chortles in spite of himself, and his eyes open, filled with wistfulness that there are not quite words enough to express. He closes the book with a resounding _thud_, and rests it on the floor, where he found it.

Scrupulously, he rises from the chair, and ambles slowly towards his bed on the opposite side of the room. Passing a mirror, he pauses to study the reflection. He touches his face, intent on his mirrored image. His hand finds the empty space where his ear should be, and he fingers the ancient scar for a moment. He closes his eyes, and shakes his head.

"Such a long time… since… since it's hurt to look into the mirror… You never got to age. Died nice and handsome; though I must admit, I was always the striking twin." He smirks into the mirror, opening his eyes. They fill once more with something we can't quite distinguish, and it is gone yet again in the next second.

"Mum never got over it." He says, off-handedly, into the empty room. "Never could look at me the same, after you died." He lowers his head, in what seems like guilt.

"Took a long time for us all to move on, you know." He continues, searching his bedroom for any trace of the second half of the conversation. "Ron took over the shop, at least, till he married Hermione. Big surprise there." He snorted comically, and sighed deeply. "Rosie and Hugo, they're nice kids, the pair… But it's really Harry's kid, James that we shine through in. And of course, my Fred's children. My two grandkids, Arthur and Evelyn… they were like us too, when they were younger."

His eyes are glassy now, and he is shaking his head again. They are full of the emotion that we could not quite see earlier. It is regret, and anguish. Even now, there is a dull throb of pain as he remembers, and George chuckles softly.

"You missed a hell of a lot, mate." He says quietly, remorsefully.

The man leaves the mirror, and climbs into his bed. Shaking, and not because of the cold, he lays his head on the pillow. Warmth suddenly surrounds him; we see the toothy grin fall upon his face.

His eyelids flicker, and he exhales a final time. In his mind, images of his life flash before him. His twins face stands out, the mirror image of his own. And he feels the wrinkles, the deep creases in his flesh stretch into the taut skin of a younger man. His grey hair crawls and thickens atop his head, and shines a radiant shade of red.

Light is all around him, and he is suddenly walking. The image of his wife is before him, and he tears up as she urges him to walk on. He passes his mother and father. They wave and nod for him to go further. He sees Bill, Percy, Charlie, Ron. Cedric Diggory and his father are also there, grinning and nodding their greetings. Everyone who died before him stands, waving and smiling. His eyes widen with excitement as he sees Lee Jordan, and as he nods to Remus Lupin and Tonks.

A figure is silhouetted in the distance, light splashing all around it. George squints, trying hard to make out the person. He breaks out into a run, enjoying the energy of his once again youthful body. Closer, and closer he comes to the figure. He sees the red hair first, and begins to slow.

The boy turns around to face George, and grins wildly.

"'Bout time you got here, mate! The party's started without you!"

Unable to speak, George laughs as Fred eagerly snatches his wrist, and pulls him into the light.


End file.
